


Clan of Two

by toad_in_the_road



Series: The Mandalorian: A Western AU [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cowboys, Desert, Drowning, Father-Son Relationship, Flooding, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Hopi, Hurt/Comfort, Mustangs, Native American Character(s), Native American/First Nations Culture, Native American/First Nations Legends & Lore, One-Shots, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post Civil War, References to Aztec Religion & Lore, Reluctant dad, The adventures of space cowboy and his space son, Thunderbird - Freeform, Thunderstorms, Vaqueros, Western AU, Wild West AU, confederates, im gay, putting my ap us history class to use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22245238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toad_in_the_road/pseuds/toad_in_the_road
Summary: Small moments between the Gunslinger, his mustang, and the kid who he's growing increasingly attached too, despite his best efforts.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: The Mandalorian: A Western AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601287
Comments: 5
Kudos: 45





	1. The Thunderbird

**Author's Note:**

> yeehaw
> 
> i wanted to do collections of short stories that i can update intermittently so i can continue to write for our trio even after i finish season one!!!!! yay!!!!
> 
> this first one is me projecting because it's been pouring for a week straight and i'm getting kinda sick of it
> 
> if you have any suggestions for what our intrepid travels should do behind the scenes, tell me! I love hearing ideas. or-you can even write it yourself! i'd love to see what yall come up with.
> 
> anyway, enjoy

The air was stagnant and hot. That wasn’t unusual for the desert. What was unusual was the odd, but undeniable energy in the air.

The Razor Crest was nervous, jumping at minor things that usually wouldn’t give him trouble. He kept stopping, refusing to go forward and then suddenly bolting when the Gunslinger wasn’t expecting it. The kid was anxious as well, although the Gunslinger wasn’t sure if it was due to the Crest or if he sensed something too.

He was at a loss of what the mood was stemming from until he saw the dark clouds in the distance, juxtaposed by the perfect blue of the sky. 

_Rain?_

The Gunslinger couldn’t remember the last time he saw rain. In honesty, he wouldn’t doubt that he had never seen it at all. He knew, logically, that rain was simply water falling from the sky, but the image of water-already so scarce-being up instead of down simply did not compute with his head.

There was a low, faraway rumble, and the Razor Crest screamed. 

“Alright,” The Gunslinger said. “It’s fine. Just rain. No need to worry.”

He squinted into the distance, seeing a large rock formation. That could be a suitable shelter from the rain. He nudged the Crest, who started a choppy, nervous gait towards the rocks. Fairly quickly, the trio had set up camp for the day, and the Gunslinger watched with fascination as the dark clouds creeped across the sky, sometimes flashing quick bolts of lightning, followed by a low rumble of thunder. The Gunslinger stared at the clouds, allowing his imagination to see silhouettes in the clouds when lit up by lightning. 

The Gunslinger looked down, seeing the kid pressing against him. He smiled, patting the kid’s shoulder. “It’ll be fine.” He said. “We’ll wait it out, and I’ll pitch a tent if it gets to be too much.”

_**BOOM!** _

The Gunslinger jumped-he would admit that-startled by the sudden crack of thunder. The kid copied, grabbing the Gunslinger’s arm as if for protection. The Crest screamed, understandably. 

As if flipping a switch, the Gunslinger was suddenly soaking wet, cold rain falling from the sky in literal buckets, wind sending stinging droplets into his face, making him wince and turn away. It was almost as if the storm was laughing at him, teasing him for his flippance. 

“Alright!” The Gunslinger said, shouting over the roar of the water. “This is a bit more than I expected!”

He took off his hat, depositing it on the kid’s head. Not that it did too much, the kid was still soaking wet, but it made him feel better that he was at least doing something to try and help the kid stay dry. The shelter of rocks was no help. The wind would pick up the rain, sweeping it into the shelter, soaking the trio to the bone.

The Gunslinger shivered, trying to figure out what to do, something to keep them at least slightly comfortable. The roar of water became louder, and the Gunslinger felt water filling up his shoes, the mud becoming thicker with each passing second, trickles of muddy water racing past their feet. The roar of the rain became louder, and lightning flashed, so bright it nearly blinded him, and thunder crackled like a million gunshots. 

The mud rose around his feet.

The Gunslinger’s heart suddenly stopped. No no, he couldn’t be that unlucky, not so stupid to choose an arroyo-a dried riverbed that easily flood-to make camp?

The mud continued to rise.

“Flood!” He shouted to the kid, running to grab the Razor Crest. It was difficult; the mustang was half mad with fear, kicking madly and fighting to get away. The Gunslinger somehow managed to untie the horse without dying, and pushed the kid up into the saddle, but it was too late.

A seeming solid force knocked the Gunslinger off his feet, slamming him into the rock. He gasped on instinct, and swallowed a mouthful of muddy water. He managed to stick his head above the water, coughing and gasping, but was yanked right back under by the water, tumbling blindly, unsure which way was up and which was down, still gasping and only inhaling more water as a consequence.

His head broke the surface again, and he wheezed, hearing a scream. The Razor Crest was within sight, the mustang’s eyes wild with terror. The kid looked just as scared, gripping the saddle pommel so tightly his knuckles were white, and his eyes darted through the water, trying to find the Gunslinger. The Crest was standing in the water, struggling to not be swept away by the current.

“H-” The Gunslinger tried to shout, but was yanked back under by the current again, back to choking and gasping. Drowning. What a pathetic way for a _vaquero_ to die, especially when he had set himself up in the arroyo. _Hopefully the kid and the Crest can get away,_ the Gunslinger thought dimly, feeling dizzy, as if floating away.

His foot hit something solid, and he forced himself to focus, pushing up, his head breaking the surface, flailing wildly for something to grab. He found it; a fistful of the Crest’s mane. The kid gasped, looking both relieved and horrified, probably realizing if the Gunslinger let go and lost his grip, he wouldn’t survive going under again.

The Gunslinger gasped, trying to get air, but couldn’t seem to get any, dirty water filling his lungs. He yanked down his bandana and vomited, the harsh retching almost causing him to black out and lose his grip. The kid reached forward and grabbed his arm, as if that would somehow keep the Gunslinger from being swept away. Maybe it would. Stranger things had happened.

Lightning flashed again, and thunder boomed, and the Razor Crest screamed, fear fueling his energy, and he surged forward, managing to drag himself out of the flooded arroyo, along with with Gunslinger.

As soon as he couldn’t feel the current trying to sweep him away, the Gunslinger let go, falling to his hands and knees, puking up dirty water and whatever pitiful remains were in his stomach. His throat burned, and his vision was edged in black, but finally, he gasped, and found he was able to draw air, nevermind the air smelled of wet horse.

He flopped on his back, panting, ignoring the sting of the rain hitting his face. Lightning flash, and thunder roared again-except it didn’t sound like thunder this time, now it sounded like a scream.

The Gunslinger cracked his eyes open, and his heart stopped. Just out of sight, a silhouette against the clouds, there was a giant bird, an eagle perhaps, wings spread proudly, seeming to touch the horizon. The bird flapped its wings, and lightning flashed again, and when the bird opened its mouth, thunder came out as opposed to a screech.

The rain, if possible, came down even harder, and the Gunslinger closed his eyes. 

Any other time, he would have dismissed this giant eagle as a hallucination, a result of nearly drowning. But somehow, he knew it was real, and the bird could have easily struck him down if he wanted to, caused the flood to sweep him away, cause lightning to strike him and set him on fire. But it didn’t.

The rain softened, no longer feeling like needles on his face. 

The Gunslinger opened his eyes, and forced himself to sit up. The clouds were a soft gray now, not a deep blue-black. They were the colors of the Razor Crest’s coat.

He heard a nervous snort, and turned, seeing the Crest only a few yards away, the kid sitting in the saddle, white-faced but unharmed. “Hey.” The Gunslinger wheezed, standing up shakily, his head spinning. 

The kid slid off the horse before the Gunslinger could warn him, and threw his arms around the Gunslinger, hugging the caretaker tightly. 

The Gunslinger stumbled back, surprised by the gesture, and unsure what to do. Slowly, feeling awkward, he hugged the kid back, feeling them shaking. “I’m okay.” The Gunslinger rasped. He smiled slightly in spite of himself. “You probably don’t want to touch me. I might puke again.” 

The kid ignored him, still shaking. 

The Gunslinger’s smile disappeared. “I’m okay,” He said, more steady this time. “I’m sorry, kid. I...I didn’t realize we were in an arroyo.” He squeezed the kid gently. “It won’t happen again.”

The kid didn’t move, but finally, their shaking began to cease. The Gunslinger sighed in relief. “Let’s go.” He said, glancing at the Crest, relieved to find the mustang hadn’t run off, but was pacing, probably trying to burn off adrenaline. He looked just as rattled as his companions.

The Gunslinger helped the kid back into the saddle, and then climbed up after the two, giving the Crest a gentle nudge. Uncharacteristically, the Crest began to walk.

The rain continued, but not like it had before. Instead of an attack, it pattered down in a monotonous drone, soaking the ground with warm water, quiet thunder sometimes accentuating the sounds of desert weather. 

The kid looked up, eyes closed, letting the rain fall on his face. The Gunslinger watched them for a moment, and then copied, feeling the rain on his skin, almost like an apology for earlier. _So sorry you almost drowned, here, take a breather._

The Gunslinger nearly laughed aloud at the idea, glancing around him. With the lighter rain, he could see better, watching the ground turn a deep brown, almost red from the water. The kid glanced up at him, still wearing the Gunslinger’s hat. He took it off, and offered it to him. The Gunslinger smiled slightly. “You keep it safe for me.” He said, pressing the hat back onto the kid’s head gently. The kid smiled.

As if sensing something quiet and domestic, the Razor Crest shook violently to rid himself of water, like a dog, throwing both the Gunslinger and the kid. The kid laughed.

The next day, the landscape was dotted with color, tiny wildflowers taking their one chance to bloom in an explosion of mostly green, yellow, and purple, with the odd red bloom that looked like a dying ember. Plain butterflies and bees zoomed between the sudden flora, and the Gunslinger wondered where they hid when times were tough, how they survived the dust and grit with such delicate, tiny bodies. 

The kid regarded everything with reverence, and the Gunslinger strange feeling that the kid had seen this before, but was captivated nonetheless. He looked to the Gunslinger as if asking for his opinion on the subject. 

“Yeah. Looks pretty cool, huh?” The Gunslinger agreed, feeling almost like an outsider to the beauty, a secret the desert kept well under a layer of dust and cracked ground, only to sweep the slate clean with violence to create a strange picture of fragile art. He wondered how long the flowers and buzzing life lasted before they were banished to the sand. The thought should have upset him, but instead he only felt luckier to be privy to such a landscape. 

Reluctantly, the Gunslinger nudged the Razor Crest forward, continuing through the newly green landscape and eventually emerging into the familiar desert, leaving behind the domain of the thunderstorm, a being of both violence and allurement.


	2. The Jaguar and the Frog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, it's been a while and corona virus made me sad

It was very late-Din knew that-and he was tired. The kid wasn’t.

Everytime Din started to doze off, the kid would move, or do something to startle him awake. Din was a light sleeper. Even the Razor Crest was still, more or less asleep; a true testament to how exhausted the group was. The kid was exhausted too, he knew that-but amped up, running on adrenaline.

“Kid,” He said, voice low and croaking. “Please. I’m exhausted. At least pretend to go to sleep.”

The kid instead took this as an invitation to sit right next to Din, fidgeting and staring at him expectantly. Their nose was slightly crooked, and Din hoped he wouldn’t have to set it. It was a painful process. “Shouldn’t you still be knocked out from the fire trick?” He asked, knowing he was defeated. 

The kid wriggled, playing with his own turquoise pendant, and the Huitzilopochtli gold icon gifted to them, lapis lazuli edges glinting softly in the moonlight. The face of the sun god seemed to glare at Din, scolding him.

“What do you want me to do?” He asked softly. “I’m not in much shape to do anything physical.” Din shifted, wincing when most of his body shouted painfully in protest. The wolf signet seemed to weigh a thousand pounds on his chest. _A clan of two._

_No pressure or anything._

The kid wriggled more, seeming to become more agitated by the minute. Din sighed deeply. “Alright. Alright, let me think of something to entertain you with.” He paused, thinking. What did kids like? Toys? The kid had the corn husk doll, but he didn’t seem to want to play with it now. Din should probably think about giving the kid more things to amuse themselves with, but that didn’t solve the immediate problem.

Games? Still a no-go. Din wasn’t about to get up to do anything. 

The kid played with the Huitzilopochtli pendant again, and Din perked up.

“A story? Will that please you?” He asked, somewhat sarcastic. 

But the kid seemed excited by that prospect, smiling and scooting closer to Din. Din smiled as well, in spite of himself. “Alright, fine. Okay, here’s the story of…” He trailed off, realizing too late he had very little to say.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know stories; he knew lots of Aztec myths, as custom with _vaqueros_. It’s just that those myths were generally characterized by two categories: ‘Let me tell you about this horrifying and bloody thing’ or ‘let me tell you about this horrifying and bloody thing, and this horrifying and bloody thing is the reason we sacrifice people’. Luckily for everyone, the _vaqueros_ didn’t put any faith in human sacrifice, but all the same, Din had a vague but distinct memory of being rather disturbed and depressed by the Aztec’s bleak outlook on the world the first time he heard the stories. The ground wanted to eat them, the moons and stars wanted to swallow the Earth, and the sun would die if they didn’t regularly murder people.

Meanwhile, the kid was still waiting expectantly. 

“Um…” Din said, fairly certain the kid wouldn’t leave him alone until he told a story. 

“Once upon a time there was a jaguar.” He said, and saw the kid’s confused look. “Oh, uh, a jaguar is a really big cat with spots. They’re very powerful.”

The kid nodded sagely.

“Anyway, there was a jaguar, and he was very proud. Strong. A warrior. He was everything everyone expected a jaguar to be. The jaguar worked for a monkey, who had him capture others for a profit.” Din didn’t really bother with what profit for a jaguar looked like. The Mesoamerican animal economic system was probably too complicated for either him or the kid to tackle tonight.

“The jaguar said it made him happy, and he knew he was fulfilling his purpose among his fellow jaguars, and that he was helping little jaguars with nowhere to go, but he was also very lonely.” Din said, staring at the stars, wondering if the kid associated them with evil or if they saw them as something else; maybe something benevolent. 

“One day, the monkey told the jaguar that there were dogs that had a job for him. Now, the jaguar knew the dogs were bad news, and they were tricky and mean, but the monkey didn’t have anything to give the jaguar, so he went to the dogs, and they told him to find a special frog and bring it to them.” Din said.

The kid looked excited. They liked frogs. Toads were superior, obviously, but frogs were a very close second. 

Din smiled too. “So he went to find the frog, and encountered a hummingbird. People don’t know this, but hummingbirds are actually great warriors. Just because they’re small doesn’t mean they’re weak.” His smile faltered, thinking of Kanuna with a twist in his chest.

Din coughed, forcing himself to focus. “The hummingbird told the jaguar he would need the help of a rabbit, because rabbits are quick and smart.” The kid looked at the Razor Crest, and then suspiciously at Din, starting to wonder if these characters had any real life associations. 

“The hummingbird helped the jaguar find the rabbit, and then the jaguar met a snake. The jaguar didn’t trust the snake, but the snake helped the jaguar find the frog.” 

“When the jaguar took the frog to meet the rabbit, he found the rabbit had been stolen by wild boars. The hummingbird spoke with the wild boars, and the boars told the jaguar if he could kill a great monster for them, they would return the rabbit.” 

Din smiled. “The jaguar was too confident that he could beat the monster. The monster was very big and almost killed the jaguar. But then something amazing happened.”

Din paused, hearing a bat chattering in the night, interrupting him. He took a breath, and continued.

“The frog jumped forward, and stopped the monster with magic. The jaguar was shocked. He had no idea the frog could do this, he didn’t know anything could do this. With the frog’s help, the jaguar defeated the monster, and got the rabbit back.”

“Despite this, the jaguar still took the frog to the dogs, and left it with them. But the jaguar realized...he…” Din trailed off.

The bat chattered again, taunting him. _What did it realize, Din? Are you so afraid to admit it even in story?_

“The jaguar rescued the frog from the dogs.” Din said lamely. “And with the rabbit, they ran far away so the frog could not be hurt by the dogs.” 

He took a breath. “The jaguar, frog, and rabbit had a lot of adventures. Once, with the help of an eagle, they saved a river of fish from more boars. They met a shifty crocodile and saw through his tricks. They met a band of crows, and the crows almost defeated the jaguar, but not quite.

“Then, one day, the monkey found the jaguar and told him the dogs were out of control and hurting others. The jaguar couldn’t let this happen, and he went to find the hummingbird and the eagle to help him stop the dogs.

“But the jaguar saw the snake was there, and the last time they had met, the snake had tried to hurt the frog. So the jaguar was angry at the snake, but the hummingbird told the jaguar the snake was coming, whether he liked it or not.”

The kid shuffled, laying down so he was pressed against Din. Din's ribs screamed in protest, but he didn’t move.

“The monkey had been planning to betray the group, but then he got very hurt. The frog healed him, and the monkey realized he couldn’t hurt the frog. The hummingbird took the frog and went to take it to safety while the jaguar and eagle went to stop the dogs.

“But the dogs were clever. They attacked the jaguar, eagle, and monkey, and trapped them. They...killed the hummingbird and took the frog. For a little while, it looked like the dogs would win. They were very powerful, and the most powerful dog was ruthless and evil, and wanted to hurt the frog.

“But then the snake appeared, and saved them from the dogs. But the jaguar was very hurt, and the snake then risked his life for the jaguar, even though the jaguar had been very mean to the snake before. With the snake’s help, the jaguar was able to catch up to the eagle and monkey. But they weren’t finished yet.

“The dogs had set up an ambush, and…” Din trailed off, wishing he had never suggested a story to the kid. People were dead because of him, and he couldn’t undo that, no matter what. 

He swallowed hard. “And the snake sacrificed himself to save the frog. And thanks to everyone else, the jaguar was able to defeat the meanest dog. And he promised the frog that he would help them find their family. And…”

Din took a deep breath, something deep inside him aching for some sort of instruction on how to voice himself. How to say something that would reassure the kid that everything would be okay, even though Din knew he had no right to promise such things.

“...and the jaguar promised the frog that he would be there for him, because even though the frog deserved better, he would be there to protect the frog, and that the frog wouldn’t be alone anymore, because the jaguar knew how awful it was to be lonely.” Din smiled slightly, satisfied with the story. “The end.”

He glanced down at the kid. The kid was fast asleep.

Slightly insulted, Din sighed, but after a moment of deliberation, pulled the kid a little closer, and closed his eyes.

The sounds of the desert night, soft and familiar, lulled him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Wish you were here' by Florence and the machine really be hitting differently in quarantine

**Author's Note:**

> come talk about the themes of man vs nature in westerns and get updates on my tumblr!  
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/toadintheroad


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